


Taking Her There

by Silvestria



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Special, Engagement, F/M, Fluff, Late at Night, Romance, reactions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvestria/pseuds/Silvestria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Direct continuation of the Christmas Special. In which ALL IS HAPPINESS AND NOTHING HURTS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She was as light as a feather. He swung her round and round again, their laughter mingling in the frosty air. Finally he set her down, after stumbling several paces further away from the door. Her feet touched the ground in the physical sense alone for her eyes were bright and her mouth wide with laughter. Her arms were still tightly wound round his neck, there was snow in her hair and it made sense for him to kiss her again.

Matthew's eyes darkened and his expression sobered as he took her in. After the initial burst of ecstasy had passed, he was able to still and try to take in the depth of his happiness. It was impossible. She was in his arms; he was in hers. Her smile softened in response to his and this time when he lowered his head purposefully towards hers and captured her lips they both felt a greater depth and intimacy than before. Slowly, gradually, they shifted and tasted and explored each other, the smiles never quite disappearing. It was several long moments before they separated, and when they did it was with reluctance and their eyes opened and focused slowly.

Gently he brushed his fingers against Mary's cheek and was amazed at how cold they were. “Oh, darling...” He trailed off, testing this new title out on her and finding that it fitted, and grinned impossibly at her. He blinked, having almost forgotten what he was saying. “You're terribly cold.”

Her eyes flickered upwards for a moment. “It's snowing.” Her voice was soft and her hand came and covered his, pulling it down again.

“So it is, darling.” The snow was beautiful and magical but in their current mood, it could have been rain or sunshine or wind or thunder or shooting stars and the effect would have been the same. He slid his hands onto her arms and rubbed them and she gave a little contented sigh and shiver as she leaned into him.

“I wasn't expecting to stay out so long,” she explained after a moment. “I was hot inside.”

“Shall we go back?” When she hesitated, he continued affectionately, “We don't have to say goodnight quite yet, but perhaps I should find your father and ask his permission before anything else.”

Before she could do more than open her mouth in a mix of delight and incredulity, he had stepped back and taken off his jacket. He draped it round her shoulders, pausing only to admire her and stare adoringly, a look she returned with all her heart. Nevertheless, once he had positioned the coat to his satisfaction and put his arm back round her for good measure and they had turned back to the house, she did glance up at him and reply, “You do know that asking Papa's permission isn't necessary. We're both of us considerably over twenty-one!”

He squeezed her more tightly. “Don't you want me to do things properly?”

She met his eyes as they went up the steps and a spark flashed between them. Mary caught her breath. “Maybe not quite all the time, my dear.”

They had reached the hallway and he stopped walking to face her. Holding onto the jacket, he pulled her towards him and kissed her again, briefly and tenderly, leaving them both smiling when they parted. It seemed impossible to go more than a minute or so without kissing.

Mary gave him a quick, radiant look before turning towards the library and pushing the door open, Matthew only a pace behind her, so close that she was deliciously aware of his breathing and proximity.

“Papa?” she called softly as they entered the room, Matthew closing the door behind them. All was silent, however. The warm remains of a fire still crackled in the grate and one lamp was still on, casting a golden glow over the room, but it was deserted.

“He must have gone to bed too – I know Edith went a while back,” she said, wandering around.

Matthew came further into the room, before walking over to the fireplace and warming his hands. “What do you want to do?”

Mary was silent a while, taking the opportunity to gaze at him while he wasn't aware of her, admiring the pull of his shirt over his shoulders as he leaned forwards. Hers. He was _hers_ , inasmuch as he was anyone's, and she had a right to stare. Her heart contracted in a burst of overwhelming love and happiness.

As if aware of her gaze, Matthew straightened and turned round, raising his eyebrows. “Well? Or should I simply walk home?”

She jumped slightly, before her lips pursed into a sweet smile. “Oh no, don't do that. Not yet anyway,” she added with a blush. “Shall we sit?”

“If you like, darling.”

He held out a hand to her and she came to him, and they both sat down on the sofa closest to the fire. He retained her hand and after a few moments of peaceful silence, increased his pressure and looked down at it, smoothing the satin of her glove gently with his fingers.

“I need to get you a ring.”

“Alright,” she smiled. A beat later she bit her lip and added with a touch of mischief, “May I make one request?”

“Anything!”

“I don't ever want to wear another rock on my fingers. Carlisle's, you know.”

Matthew's lips twitched. “Very well, darling. I must confess I wouldn't relish competing with him in this respect.”

She gave a little, elegant shrug. “Really? My money would be on you." 

“I'm flattered!” His eyes dipped back down to her lips and before she could reply, he had kissed her softly again. With a sigh, she turned into him and stroked his face with her hand. Very tenderly, he drew her closer. It was still so very new to them, this intimacy. Here they were in the silent room, the fire burning next to them and nobody to interrupt them... It was utterly intoxicating. Shivers of desire ran through her turning into shivers of warning as his fingers began to dance over the bare skin of her back and neck. 

With a gasp she pulled away. They stared at each other with eyes hazy and wide with love, unified in the gratification and consciousness of the awakening passion between them and an awareness of where it could and would lead. Matthew swallowed, Mary's eyes fixating on his throat as he did. 

“I should go,” he said, and cleared his throat as his voice came out deeper than expected. 

He stood up and Mary did immediately too, understanding his motivations perfectly. They hesitated together a moment, not quite wanting to break eye contact, then she nodded and pulled herself together. “It's too late for Pratte to drive you back.” She walked briskly to the window and pulled back the curtains, drawing in her breath. “Oh my...” 

Matthew followed her over and without even thinking about it wrapped his arms round her and rested his head against hers as he stared out. The snow was falling thick and fast, so much so that it was impossible to see very far in it. 

Mary turned in his arms. “You can't possibly walk back in this, not at this time of night.” 

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, more concerned with her beauty, the smattering of freckles across her cheeks and how tremendously dear she was to him, than how he was going to get home. 

“You'll have to stay here,” she continued, and this did bring him back to the present. 

“What? I couldn't possibly. How-” 

She pulled out of his arms and headed to the bell. “I'm sure Anna or Mrs. Hughes won't be asleep yet. One of them can see about getting a bed sorted for you.” 

He crossed the room in a few strides and intercepted her with a hand on her arm. “Don't, Mary.” 

She stilled and raised her eyebrows at him. 

“Don't disturb them unnecessarily. I can sleep here by the fire. If you help me move the sofa closer then I am sure I will be perfectly comfortable.” 

She stared at him. “You will not be!”

Matthew shook his head fondly and then replied, his eyes quickly darting round the room, “And if that cloth can be spared, it will make an excellent blanket.” 

“Matthew, please, this isn't proper.” 

He took her hands. “Darling, in the circumstances this is the least improper solution.” 

Her eyes widened and her lips parted. Then she pursed them and stepped away with an involuntary shiver. She took up one end of the sofa and jerked her head imperiously until he picked up the other end. Together they manoeuvred it right in front of the fire. Matthew then pulled the cloth off the side table and turned back, only to find Mary sitting down, engaged in pulling off her shoes. He paused. 

“What are you doing?” 

She looked up at him with a beaming and very determined smile and patted the space next to her. “I couldn't possibly leave a guest alone and unattended in the library.” 

Matthew's throat worked noiselessly. His mouth was suddenly dry at sudden thoughts of what being _attended to_ could imply. Then she kicked off her shoes and pulled both her legs up under her. She leaned back against the sofa and wrapped her arms around herself. “Well, if you don't want the cover, I'd like it, please, dear!” 

Matthew's objections suddenly seemed terribly insignificant. His steps were heavy as he came over towards her and sat down next to her. He held out the table cloth, a thick, uncomfortable, embroidered thing from the previous century, with raised eyebrows. Suddenly they were very close to each other and Mary was no longer cold. Without breaking eye contact, she took it from him and placed it carefully behind her. Their breaths became increasingly shallow as they looked at each other, the air growing thick between them. Seconds before he kissed her, Matthew hesitated. “You're really staying?” he barely whispered. 

Her lips trembled and her eyes flickered downwards. “Oh, yes, I'm staying.” 

It was all the encouragement he needed. His arm slipped round her waist and he pulled her flush against him, her arms going straight round his neck. With a hum of complete and utter satisfaction, impossible to tell from whom, their lips met in a deep kiss, their heads swirling with the promise of the future.


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew awoke to a clatter and a stifled exclamation. Before his eyes opened, however, he became aware that he was incredibly uncomfortable, extremely cold, that his back was stiff and that there was a heavy weight on his shoulder. Then with a warm and pleasant jolt he realised that the heavy weight was Mary's head and that he was sitting sprawled on the floor of Downton's library, leaning awkwardly against the sofa and that he was finally engaged to be married to the right girl. He no longer cared how painful his arm felt, having had it stretched at an unusual angle for hours on end, since he knew that it was around Mary's shoulders. He squeezed her gently and finally opened his eyes to find himself staring through the gloom of early morning at a coal skuttle and the legs of a maid. He raised his eyes and met the very wide eyes of – of Daisy? Yes, Daisy.

As soon as she saw he was awake she took another step back and tripped over the fender again. "I didn't see nothin'!" she exclaimed.

Matthew really didn't know what to say. Being discovered in a compromising position by a kitchen maid on the floor of Downton Abbey with Lady Mary Crawley in the very early hours of the day was not something that had ever occurred to him as a likely eventuality. And surely it was wrong that the thought of it made him smile? He couldn't have woken up properly yet. Fortunately at that moment, with an adorable little moan, Mary shifted against him and woke. She raised one delicate hand and passed it over her face before sitting up straight causing Matthew's arm to fall away from her. She also raised her eyes.

"Goodness, Daisy!" she cried, sounding much more coherent than Matthew felt. "What are you doing?"

"Just lightin' the fires, milady..." She shook her head several times. "I'll go right now; didn't mean to disturb you!"

"Lighting the..." muttered Mary and very slowly she turned her head to meet Matthew's eyes. He didn't need to be any more awake to reach up and cup her face and gaze in rapt adoration at her, quieting her alarm as she came to terms with the situation.

With more clattering, Daisy grabbed her skuttle and brush and made her departure as swiftly as she could, glancing back once with another shake of her head.

"We spent the night together," murmured Mary in wonder, mirroring Matthew's actions and clasping his cheek.

He turned his lips against her hand and kissed her palm. "Not all of it, I think. Dawn isn't breaking yet."

She shivered. "No... I can tell."

Their eyes flickered over each other's faces in the grey, pale light of pre-morning. Mary took in the light dusting of stubble on his chin, his lack of cravat, and the skin visible in the neck of his shirt. She had undone the top two buttons at some point last night, she now remembered, and her cheeks reddened. Matthew remarked fondly the loose hair that had escaped her bun, the goosepimples on her arms and the way his jacket, originally covering her as a makeshift blanket, had slipped down to rest uselessly on her knees.

Instinctively, they moved together, leaning in and kissing each other with consciousness, joy and greater familiarity: it was a new day and they could still do this. Despite the warmth spreading between them, it was extremely uncomfortable and their fingers where they touched each other were cold as ice. They broke apart after only a few moments.

"I really should go this time," said Matthew regretfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She nodded. "Yes. So should I. We don't need another scandal on our hands." But her expression was luminous and her fingers were entwining themselves with his, so he kissed her again and took his time over it before getting to his feet and pulling her up with him. She swayed on her stockinged feet, stiff from how she had spent the night.

"It wouldn't be so bad though, would it?" murmured Matthew, his lips twitching. "They'd force us to marry and we-"

She laughed gently, a beautiful sound. "Don't tempt fate, Matthew. I'm not good at doing anything under duress; I might refuse."

He lowered his gaze, very knowingly. "You wouldn't."

She softened. "No, I don't believe I would."

Only a faint and distant noise heralding the gradual awakening of the house prevented another delay. When they checked the weather out of the window once again, they were pleased to see that it had stopped snowing and the sky was clear. Matthew shrugged on his jacket, shoved his cravat in his pocket and put on his shoes while Mary gathered up her gloves and her own shoes. Then they moved the sofa back to where it had been, straightened the rug and it was time to say goodbye.

"You will be back soon, won't you?" said Mary. "I'd like you to be there when I tell Papa, and I'm not sure I can keep it to myself very long."

"Oh my darling, try to keep me away!"

Eventually he left. She saw him off before shutting the door quietly on the cold and tiptoeing up to bed. It was all the most perfect dream.

 

*

* * *

The next time Matthew opened his eyes, he was in his bed at home and bright winter sun was shining through the window. He sat up, instantly awake, aware that it was far later than he normally got up. His thoughts turned immediately to Mary and he wondered if she would already be up. He would have breakfast and walk straight back over.

As he stood up to ring the bell for Molesley, he cast his eyes round the room. He could imagine Mary here. Even a day before he would not have been able to do so, for it would have been nothing more than an airy fantasy he did not deserve to imagine. But now... now he knew what it felt like to have her in his arms with her head on his shoulder, what her feet looked like in nothing but stockings, what it felt like to kiss her over and over again... He shook his head to clear his mind of these thoughts, for they were all pervasive, and he could not stop smiling into space as Molesley dressed him.

He was still grinning when he wandered into the dining room, put butter and jam on his toast without bothering to sit down, poured himself some coffee and strolled into the drawing room with them where he found his mother already sitting with a book.

She looked up when he came in. "Ah, Matthew, you're up! I didn't hear you come in last night. Were you very late?"

He had a mouthful of toast in his mouth and only nodded. Suddenly he felt shy about telling his mother. Telling her about Lavinia he had done by letter and even at the time it had never felt quite so terribly significant. This was forever. This was about him and his life and the future. This was  _Mary_. He suddenly wondered what she had for breakfast. Surely toast and jam was very middle class? Would she want ham and eggs every day in Crawley House? Good Lord, Mary living in Crawley House... living with him... How wonderful, how terrifying – how wonderfully terrifying and terrifyingly wonderful. He swallowed, took a swig of coffee and paced to the window, Isobel following him with her eyes.

"Did you enjoy the ball?" she pressed.

"Yes, very much," he replied, trying to refrain from hyperbole.  _Had he enjoyed it_  indeed!

"I saw you dancing with Mary when I left," she continued. "You both looked rather happy. I suppose now that Carlisle has thankfully left-"

"Mother!" he interrupted her, swallowing down his coffee.

"Well, you know what I think, Matthew. And now she's free, and you're free, I simply don't see why you can't both get on with your lives. Together."

She was almost glaring up at him and Matthew nearly laughed. He put his coffee down on a nearby table. "I'm afraid it's too late for that advice, Mother."

"Really, not this again."

"It's too late," he continued, "to take the advice because it's already done."

Now she looked at him properly, eyes widening in realisation, and he couldn't hold back the smile any longer. "She accepted me, Mother."

For a moment, the relief and joy was visible on her face and then she pulled herself together. "I should think so too!"

Matthew looked down, embarrassed for a moment.

Isobel stood up and crossed to him, took the plate of toast out of his hand and put it to the side before taking both his hands in hers and subjecting him to a long and very affectionate look.

"Dear Matthew, I couldn't be happier," she said finally.

He blinked and smiled at her, again almost shyly. "Neither could I." Suddenly feeling very emotional, he embraced her.

It was Isobel who stepped back first. "Now then, I don't know why you're still here. Finish your breakfast and be off with you! I'm quite sure you would rather be at Downton."

She almost pushed him and his breakfast out of the room and for once he was inclined to agree with her. He would rather be at Downton. As he left, his thoughts already with Mary, he did not look back and therefore he missed his mother clutching her handkerchief tightly in her hand and the way her smile wavered just a little bit.


End file.
